


Find Yourself a Home

by UnicornPunk



Series: Underswap Underfell Fusion Universe [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Gaster Blaster (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underfell, Alternate Universe - Underswap, Animal Abuse, Bc SwapPap is a potty mouth tbh, Child Abuse, Dehumanization, Depression, Discrimination, Fusion of the three AUs, Gaster Blaster Sans, Gen, Lots of Cursing, Medical Experimentation, Neglect, Swap Papyrus is trying his best, Underfell is a place in the Underswap verse, Underfell sans thinks he's a dog, Undyne is not a veterinarian, W. D. Gaster Being An Asshole, references to dog fighting, underfell papyrus is not an asshole
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-13 20:22:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12991812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnicornPunk/pseuds/UnicornPunk
Summary: A month after Sans moves out of the house, odd rumors start floating around about a red-eyed skeleton dog hanging out around Snowdin. Despite the guards' warnings that the beast may be dangerous, Papyrus lets his curiosity get the best of him and soon, the strange skeledog manages to worm its way into Papyrus's heart. Suddenly, Papyrus finds himself taking the dog into his home, never mind the fact he can barely take care of himself these days.1-S has just been pushed out of the only home he's ever known. When an orange skeleton monster starts calling him 'dog,' 1-S decides to go along with the lie. After all, everyone loves dogs and no one has ever dared to love 1-S before. Soon, 1-S finds himself with a name--Red--and a home he's willing to fight for.But when 1-S's creator comes knocking, the two will have to put their loyalty to one and other to the test. Can their new family survive what Gaster has planned?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another work set in the underswap/underfell fusion world, where the two AUs exist in the same underground. This one is in a world similar to [I've Fallen and I Can't Get Up](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8464357/chapters/19391866), my other fic, but has nothing to do with that work plot wise. This one is set decades after the border between red and grey monsters has been disbanded and the underfell brothers are much much younger than the under swap brothers in this one. Red is the ONLY gaster blaster in this one. Sorry. 
> 
> Just to clarify things from the get go: 
> 
> Underswap Papyrus is called Papyrus.  
> Underswap Sans is called Sans. 
> 
> Underfell Papyrus is called Fell.  
> Underfell Sans is called 1-S and also Red.  
> Underfell Gaster is called Gaster. 
> 
> Other characters will either appear as their underswap or underfell versions as the work goes on.

* * *

 

The rumors start a month after Sans has moved out of the house. Papyrus overhears them one night at Muffet’s, when he’s hunched over his fifth glass of Spiderwhiskey. The guard is whispering about some new animal in the woods, a beast with red eyes and a tendency to run from anyone who draws near. Dogressa calls it a bone puppy and that peaks Papyrus’s interest, lancing through his drunken haze and causing him to turn a curious eye in the guards’ direction.

Tonight, it’s just Dogamy and Dogressa. Papyrus would be worried about Sans showing up, considering this is one of the guards’ favorite hangouts, but Sans has never liked Muffet’s. Too many nights spent dragging his older brother from the bar has soured the place for the little skeleton.

“Bone puppy?” Papyrus asks, cocking a brow.

The dogs pause, before Dogamy nods. “It looks like a puppy, big paws and all, but it’s definitely a skeleton.”

Papyrus frowns, trying to picture such a creature in his mind’s eye. It shouldn’t be hard, considering Papyrus’s own state of being, but he finds he still can’t imagine such a thing. Curiosity peaked, he leans forward. “Is it sentient?”

Dogressa shrugs, muttering to Dogamy, who nods before turning to Papyrus. “We tried talking to it, but it doesn’t seem to understand Pekinese.”

“So probably not sentient.”

The dogs nod.

At that, Papyrus turns back to his drink, taking a long swig of whiskey. A bone puppy, huh?

 

* * *

 

The next time Papyrus hears anything about the skele-dog, he’s working the afternoon shift at Muffet’s. It’s a boring job and Papyrus doesn’t really need the money any more than he needs the money from his job as a sentry, but working helps keep him out of the house for extended periods of time; the place is too quiet without Sans there, after all.

This time its Doggo and Muffet who are discussing the creature. Papyrus pauses where he is wiping down the bar, turning one ear towards the two monsters.

“I just worry for the creature. It’s getting cold out and the thing is obviously starving,” Muffet is saying, her voice sad.

“Starving?” Papyrus asks and the spider nods.

“It’s the creature that’s been getting into the garbage.”

Papyrus cringes. If that’s truly the case, then he’s had to clean up the skele-dog’s mess more than once.

Doggo lets out a breath. “The guard has been trying to take it in, but it’s skittish. I’m afraid it’ll dust before we can catch it.”

“Oh, poor dear,” Muffet says, covering her mouth.

“Is there really nothing you can do for the mutt?” Papyrus asks, giving Muffet’s arm a tight squeeze in an attempt to comfort her.

Doggo shrugs. “It’s hard to reason with a wild animal,” he shakes his head. “Especially one as scared as this one. The thing has obviously had a rough time lately.”

“You think it might be someone’s lost pet?” Papyrus offers.

“No,” Doggo frowns, glancing down at the counter-top. His fur puffs up a little and he pauses, taking a sip from the coffee Muffet had given him earlier. “The beast has red magic. It’s—unlikely that anyone would want it as a pet.”

Sensing something in the dog-monster’s tone, Papyrus leans forward, “would they have wanted it as a fighting dog?”

At that, Doggo flinches.

The dog-fighting rings are a sensitive subject among the guards. The fights were born soon after the border between the red and grey monsters was disbanded, an event that took place long before Papyrus was even born, and the guard has been trying to stop the fights ever since. They manage to take down a few rings every year, but the animals used to fight are rarely able to be saved. Often, they’re too aggressive, too fearful, and end up being put down out of mercy.

“I hope not,” Doggo says and Papyrus can hear the pain in the guard’s voice. “If it is an ex-fighter, there’s likely no helping it.”

The statement leaves a sour taste in Papyrus’s mouth.

 

* * *

 

 

Papyrus starts leaving table scraps out by the ruins after that and tells himself that he’s doing so because it’s convenient. The scraps will go bad otherwise and, besides, maybe if Papyrus starts feeding the skele-dog, he’ll stop having to clean up garbage at Muffet’s.

The skeleton checks the food every time he goes to the sentry-station in the ruins. It goes untouched for a few days. Finally, when Papyrus is on the verge of giving up, he finds tracks marring the snow near the food pile. He checks and the tracks definitely belong to a quadruped. It seems the skele-dog was here for a while, circling the food pile without taking any.

Is the creature that much of a picky eater? It can’t be, else it wouldn’t have the pallet to scarf down garbage.  Papyrus frowns. Maybe the dog thinks the offering is a trap? What sort of life has it been living then, that it distrusts a simple act of kindness?

The allure of food turns out to be too tempting for the creature though and, pretty soon, the food is disappearing on a regular basis and the next time Papyrus makes the trek to the grocer in Waterfall, he finds himself gravitating towards the pet food without meaning to. All the food bags are rather colorful, each with the image of a happy pet on the front, and it doesn’t take long for Papyrus to begin to feel overwhelmed. He picks up a single bag and stares at it for a long while, the white dog on the front seeming to mock him.

“You getting a new pup or something?” A tabby monster asks.

Papyrus startles and quickly places the dog food back on the shelf. “No, I—uh—was just looking.”

“Honey, no one ‘just looks’ at dog food. You thinking about getting a dog then? You should. They’re not as good as cats, but cats are expensive anyways. Everyone always knows someone who’s looking to get rid of a dog.”

“I’m not—” Papyrus shifts, frowning. “I mean, I’m kind of taking care of a dog, but it’s a feral one. I just leave food out for it. Leftovers and shit.”

“Ah,” the cat hums thoughtfully, before reaching past Papyrus and grabbing a green bag of dog food. She hands it to the skeleton, “that’s the one you want then. Most people avoid it, because it’s so high in fat, but if you’re dealing with a feral then the more meat you can put on its bones the better. Especially before winter. Unless it’s smart and decides to head for Hotland, the poor thing is liable to freeze to death.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Papyrus drawls, but can’t help but feel a little relieved that the woman has stepped in. Papyrus has never liked making decisions—he’s always relied on Sans for that. “You think maybe I should throw some blankets out for it too?”

The tabby shrugs. “You could. If you’re that worried about it though, you could build it a shelter. Styrofoam and plastic work pretty well to trap heat in.”

 

* * *

 

A week and three prototypes later, Papyrus has managed to hobble together a decent looking doghouse. The skele-dog’s been eating it’s kibble pretty regularly, but it never manages to eat the full amount that Papyrus sets out for it and according to the Undernet, refusing food is the first sign of sickness in a dog.

Giving the beast shelter should help though. And Papyrus’s creation is kind of nice, if he does say so himself. He’s made it big, unsure how large the skele-dog is (since Papyrus has never had the pleasure of actually seeing the damn thing,) and double insulated. The interior is filled with old pillows and the entire thing stays warm easily.

Papyrus sets it near the food pile, camouflages it a little so that the dog might mistake it for a natural structure, and smiles. Worse comes to worse, if the mutt never uses it, the place might end up making a nice home for some squirrels.

At this point, Papyrus will take that as a win.  

 

* * *

 

Thankfully, though, dog starts using the house before long. Papyrus can tell from the tracks outside the door and the dirt on the interior, but the skeleton still hasn’t managed to see the creature yet. It’s a little frustrating. Papyrus gives the damn thing food and a home and has spent an embarrassing amount of time worrying over the mutt, the least the skele-dog can do is show itself to its savior.

That night Papyrus gets drunk at Muffet’s and ends up complaining to her about it for a good while. The spider nods in all the right places, before Papyrus peters out. He stares at his glass for a long moment, glaring at the amber liquid within, and sighs.

It’s getting late. Normally Sans would be dragging Papyrus’s sorry ass out of the bar by now, but Sans isn’t here and Papyrus doesn’t need him anyways. Sans had left after all so clearly, he didn’t need—didn’t _want—_ Papyrus either.

“Dearie, maybe it’s time you went home for the night?” Muffet coos then, voice soft, like she’s afraid a harsh word might shatter her most loyal patron.

“Yeah, sure,” Papyrus says. He’s been a lot more compliant with Muffet’s suggestions as of late. The last thing he needs is her tattling to Sans. Sighing, Papyrus takes one last swig of whiskey before heading outside.

The cold stings and Papyrus tucks his hands into his hoodie pocket, taking in a measured breath just to feel the frost cut his non-existent lungs. The pain helps sober him up some and Papyrus turns to trek into the night.

He doesn’t want to go home, but he doesn’t mean to end up in front of the dog house, staring blankly at a pair of pink eyelights. Unable to believe his stupid luck, Papyrus crouches down, peering into the confines of the house to finally get a well-earned look at the skele-dog.

And, now that he can see it with his own eyes, Papyrus isn’t so sure he would call the thing a dog. It’s definitely a quadruped, boney paws pressed close to its ribcage, but its head is a little too warped to really be called canine. Bits of bone curve away from the top, reminding Papyrus more of a reptile than a dog.

All in all, though, the semantics of the thing don’t really matter. What does matter is the fact that the mutt seems to be in bad shape. Its panting hard, breath steaming around its muzzle, and shaking like a cornered rabbit. More than that, though, it’s scarred to hell, a huge crack racing up from one of its eye sockets.

Papyrus remembers his talk with Doggo and thinks that maybe the two of them were right about the beast being an ex-fighter. The thought makes Papyrus’s soul clench.

“Hey pretty boy,” Papyrus coos softly, one hand outstretched towards the dog.

The moment Papyrus shifts closer though, the beast is on its feet, snarling wildly, tail whipping furiously back and forth. The beast’s sides heave with the effort of the display, but it doesn’t lay back down. Instead it’s eyelights gutter out and it snaps its jaws a few times in warning.

Papyrus backs off. He takes a few steps in the other direction, going to lean on one of the far trees, and glares unhappily at the beast. Maybe if he wasn’t so damn drunk, he would’ve been smart enough to leave the dog alone, but as things are, Papyrus is a little offended by the creature’s behavior.

Besides, it isn’t like Papyrus has anyone waiting for him to come home. He can spend all night glaring as the stupid dog if he wants to. 

He points an accusing finger at the dog, the thing stilling at the movement. “You know, you’re a real mangy mutt. Don’t you know you’re not supposed to bite the hand that feeds you? And hey, look at that,” he gestures to the marred stretch of snow where he’s been leaving scraps for the dog, “I’ve been feeding you.”

The dog huffs, but Papyrus’s words seem to have calmed it enough to get it to stop growling. Counting that as a win, the skeleton keeps rambling.

“You know, you are a real ugly sonofabitch. Or daughter of a bitch. Or neither. Hard to tell when you’re all bone, huh. Sans always gives me shit about assuming that sort of thing—“ Papyrus cuts off, frowning, and takes a seat in the snow, leaning with his back against the tree. “You’d like Sans, probably. He could get you to come inside. Hell, he could probably get you so well-trained that people would start mistaking you for a chihuahua. The stupid ass _radiates_ trust. Fucking bastard that he is.”  

Papyrus’s words slur at the end and he shakes his head. The dog is back to sitting down, eyelights locked on Papyrus. The skeleton reaches a hand into his hoodie pocket, watches the dog stiffen, and pulls out a flask. He takes a long dreg from the thing and glances upwards. This time of night, the top of the cavern almost looks like stars.

“He’s a sucky cook though. So am I, but at least I don't _try_. That’s probably why Sans moved in with Alphys--because I never fucking try even when he tries so hard. I mean, Alphys is a real mean looking kid, but damn can she cook—“ Papyrus takes another swig from the flask. He can feel himself fading and doesn’t really care—doesn’t really see a reason to go home to an empty house. “Except you’d probably not like her very much. Not a lot of people do. Guess she and I have that in common.”

Snorting at the thought, Papyrus lets his eyes slide close.

He really fucking misses Sans.

 

* * *

 

 

In the morning, the dog is still there. It’s not in the house anymore. Instead it’s sitting a distance away from Papyrus, it’s eyes trained on the trail the skeleton had made on his way over here, almost like it’s keeping watch. Papyrus stretches, groaning as his muscles pop, a thin layer of frost dissipating. He’s lucky he’s a skeleton. A fleshier monster probably would have been dust by now.

When Papyrus finally lurches to his feet, he finds the dog watching him. After a moment, the beast turns and leaves, heading off into the woods faster than Papyrus would’ve thought possible given its sickly state. Its loping gate is strangely graceful and before long, it vanishes from sight.

 

* * *

 

The next day, Papyrus expectedly comes down with a cold. When he shows up at the bar, ready to work, Muffet just turns him away.

“You can’t work around food when you’re sick, dearie,” she says, voice soft, like she knows how fragile Papyrus can be without Sans around. “So you just go home and rest up, all right? And I’ll see you Monday.” Then she presses a carton of soup into Papyrus’s hands and boots him out the door.

It’s more than a little aggravating. What’s worse is the sniffle in Papyrus’s nose and the congestion in his chest. He wants to curl up and die, wants Sans to come home and bundle him up in an electric blanket, wants so many things it makes his chest hurt.  

Instead, he ends up at his sentry station, teeth chattering as he makes his way through Muffet’s soup. After a while, he nods off, and when he comes to, the dog is there. It’s on the opposite side of the road, just barely visible where it’s crouched, but it’s definitely the stupid mutt.

Papyrus straightens, coughing when a tickle catches in his throat, and grabs the bag of kibble he’s taken to keeping under the sentry station. He goes out to the center of the road, watching as the dog shies back, and deposits a decent pile of kibble in the open before returning to the sentry station. He grabs a blanket as well, wrapping it around his shoulders, and settles in to wait.

After a long while, the dog slinks out from the woods and back to its spot on the opposite side of the road. It scents the air, takes a hesitant step forward, before crawling towards the food. Its ribs leave furrows in the snow and its obviously hungry. Before it digs in, though, the dog freezes, eyes meeting Papyrus's as though asking for permission.

“Go ahead, you dumb dog,” Papyrus huffs.

With that, the dog snatches up the kibble in a few swift bites. After a moment, it stops, letting out an awful hacking noise. The beast’s entire body rattles and Papyrus shoots to his feet, afraid the stupid thing might be choking. Before Papyrus can think of what to do though, the dog manages to hack up a bit of sour looking magic. It pants heavily afterwards, swaying on its feet, and Papyrus feels his heart twinge with worry.

When did he become so wrapped up in the skele-dog’s well-being that the thought of the mutt hurting made Papyrus physically ill?

“You’re in bad shape, dog,” Papyrus says, still standing. The blanket has fallen from his shoulders, but the cold isn’t as bothersome as the sight of the dog panting in the snow. “Real bad shape. Did you know that?”

The dog just stares. It seems calmer than it had before, not actively growling at least, but when Papyrus makes to approach the thing dances away, all the way back to the tree line. Its jaws click, making a strange chittering noise that Papyrus takes to mean ‘back the fuck off’.

The skeleton crouches down, hands up in mock surrender. “Look, dog, I’m just trying to help. Are you lost? Maybe I can help you find your owner or something?”

The chittering stops and the dog stiffens. This time, when Papyrus shifts forward, it does growl, teeth snapping in the skeleton’s direction.

“hey,” Papyrus begins, but before he can think of what to say next, the dog turns and runs.  

 

Papyrus doesn’t see the dog for a long time after that.

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snapshot of Red's escape to snowdin. Major abuse and dehumanization ahead. Also for once Fell isn't an asshole in my stories! yay!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry chrissmsss and happy holiders. here's another chapter for you. Red gets his name in the next chapter, thank gosh. typing 1-S so many times was making my head hurt and this is coming from someone with an OC named 11. also this is very much so a sister chapter to chapter one. Next chapter has both Pap's and Red's POV.

The week that 1-S escapes the Doctor isn’t particularly special. On Monday, the Doctor leaves for the capital, locking 1-S in his kennel and putting the beast in the care of his son, Fell. 1-S likes Fell the best of all the people in the world and if the creature wasn’t in so much pain from his surgery yesterday, he might have been excited to stay there with the young monster.

As things are though, 1-S is hurting. So when Fell enters the kennel, food dish in hand, the creature can barely lift his head without sending a spark of pain trilling down his spine. Still, 1-S manages to wag his tail, the bone rapping against the concrete floor of the kennel and Fell smiles at the motion, crouching down to undo the latch on 1-S’s cage.

When Fell was smaller, he used to climb into the cage and pet 1-S, but now the monster is an adolescent. He is bigger than 1-S’s canine form even, which is quite a feat because, even when the Doctor calls the creature ‘disappointingly small,’ 1-S knows that isn’t the case. He’s seen plenty of other dogs and monsters and, though his bipedal form is certainly _small,_ his canine one isn’t. Fell sometimes calls 1-S a Rottweiler. The creature loves when Fell does this. It makes him feel wanted. 

Now, Fell gestures, setting the bowl on the ground. “Come on, you big lug. I know you gotta be hungry.”

1-S struggles to his feet, panting with the effort. The collar around his neck jingles noisily and he doesn’t have the energy to smooth his gait the way he’s been taught—to make his movements soundless. 1-S doesn’t feel like a hunter right now. Doesn't feel the need to be quiet. Instead he feels like Fell’s, and that’s _wonderful_.

It occurs to 1-S that he wouldn’t mind it if the Doctor never came home. He comes to stand in front of Fell, nosing a bruise on the teenager’s cheekbone, but Fell pushes the creature’s snout away and points to the bowl.

“Get on with it, dumbass. You need to eat if you wanna feel better.”

Sighing in agreement, 1-S crouches down in front of his bowl, digging into the pasty meal. The food Fell gives him is much tastier than the grey substance the Doctor feeds him and before long, the bowl is empty. The creature glances at his kennel door, questioning, and Fell shakes his head. The teen rolls to his feet, movement graceful.

Then Fell pats his leg, the gesture for ‘Heel’ and 1-S follows the teen up the stairs and into house.

 

* * *

 

The first time Fell took him into the house, 1-S had been terrified that the Doctor would catch them, but Fell seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to his father. He always made sure 1-S was back in the kennel before the Doctor could find out what was happening.

In the living room, Fell pulls 1-S’s bed out from its hiding place under the couch. He points to it and 1-S obeys, curling up in a tight ball. Fell disappears for a bit and returns with a bowl of popcorn and some beers. He places one beer on the ground for 1-S then plops on the sofa, kicking his legs up on the armrest.

“MTT is having a slasher marathon tonight,” Fell says, eyeing the creature. “What do you think? Good?”

1-S nods. He doesn’t really like the shows that Fell watches, but he’s happy to go along with anything the teen wants. Switching to his bipedal form, 1-S pops open the beer and takes a sip. It doesn’t taste very good, but he knows if he drinks enough of the stuff, it’ll dull his pain some. He thinks this may be the reason why Fell keeps on offering him the sour tasting drink. 

Fell turns on the television and they settle in for the night. Occasionally the skeleton runs a hand over 1-S’s skull, making the creature purr softly. He falls asleep before long, his head resting on the sofa, drinking in the scent of his boy. 

* * *

 

With Gaster away, Fell doesn’t even try to go to school that week, which isn’t unusual. The teen breaks rules left and right whenever the doctor isn’t around to enforce them. Instead of school, Fell snaps a lead on 1-S’s collar and takes him to one of the lakes in Waterfall. 1-S eyes the lake nervously, not liking the fact that he can’t see the bottom. The sight of something rippling under the water sends the creature skirting backwards. He presses his ribs against Fell’s legs, urging the teen away from the water, bristling with the instinct to protect; to run.

Fell laughs, kicking 1-S’s ribs lightly. “It’s just a fish you stupid thing,” he teases before stepping close to the edge. 1-S whines fearfully, but follows the teen, unwilling to let Fell face any sort of danger alone.

After a second, Fell lays on his stomach, chest on the very edge of the lake, and gestures, giving the leash a little pull. “Come here. Look,” he says.

1-S whimpers, tail tucked between his legs, and crawls towards the edge to lie beside his master. When Fell gestures at the water, 1-S looks down and finds his eyes widening in shock. Just beneath the surface of the water are hundreds of fish. He barks at them and they dart away, sides flashing silver in the darkness.

“Look at you, so tough,” Fell laughs. “You wanna get the fish? Kill the big scary mean fish?”

1-S doesn’t really like killing, but he senses the excitement in Fell’s tone and barks anyway, wagging his tail. Yes, he’ll kill the fish if it makes Fell sound like that.

The teen laughs and undoes 1-S’s lead, watching the creature throw himself into the water. 1-S allows himself to be submerged for a moment, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the water. It’s cold, soothing some of the aches in the creature’s bones and, after a moment, 1-S kicks his feet, bursting through the surface with a huff. He paddles in a circle, eyeing Fell, and the monster laughs.

“Ah, no fish for us,” Fell says, but doesn’t sound disappointed at all.

After a while, Fell takes off his boots and lets his feet dangle into the water and 1-S pulls himself up beside the teen. The creature is panting, tired from the swim, but the water has numbed his hurts and he has Fell nearby. All in all, it’s the happiest 1-S thinks he will ever be.

 

* * *

 

Except this time, when Gaster decides to come home early, neither of them are prepared. They’re in Fell’s room, 1-S dozing on the carpet while Fell reads, when the sound of the front door slamming shut causes them both to stiffen. Fell looks up from his book and his eyelights turn to pinpricks.

“Fuck,” he turns to 1-S and curses again. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck.”

They can hear Gaster downstairs and they both know that the first thing the Doctor will do after setting his bags down is check the kennel. 1-S feels sick with fear—fear for both himself and Fell. He wonders what the Doctor will do when the man sees that the kennel is empty.

Fell is beside 1-S in an instant, shoving the creature towards the bed. “Hide. Fucking Hide!”

1-S whimpers and Fell smacks him. It doesn’t hurt very badly, but it snaps the creature out of his haze. Fell never hits him unless 1-S is doing something Very Bad. “I’ll handle him, okay?” Fell says when he finally manages to push 1-S under the bed. “Everything is going to be all right, you just have to stay. _Stay,_ 1-S. You got that?”

The creature nods.

Fell returns to his bed just as his father bursts into the room.

“What the hell have you done now?” Gaster snarls and 1-S bites his tail in an attempt to stifle his whimpers.

“Well, hi to you too, dad,” Fell retorts.

The sound of bone slapping bone makes 1-S flinch. He hears Fell gasp in pain and something in the creature’s chest clenches, so that it feels as though 1-S is the one being hit. Which is good. 1-S has been Bad. He deserves to be in pain, not Fell.

“Where is it?” Gaster asks.

“Sorry. You’re going to need to be a little bit more specific than that.”

Another slap. Fell snorts.

“Well, _that_ sure narrows things down,” the teen jeers. 1-S wishes Fell would stop, wishes the teen would just tell Gaster the truth. The thought makes the creature’s teeth tighten around his tail, until 1-S tastes blood.

“Where. Is. 1-S,” Gaster grounds out after a long moment of quiet.

“1-S? Shit, you mean he isn’t down in the labs still?”

“No. It’s not.”

Fell lets out a little huff. “Fuck, dad. The thing must’ve finally decided it had enough of you cutting it open and ran, I guess.”

Another blow. This time the sound causes 1-S to jerk towards the edge of the bed, the need to protect his boy stronger than the need to obey him. He catches the tell-tale sting of Gaster’s magic in the air, watches as the Doctor use his magic to slam Fell into the far wall, and before 1-S can think, he’s shooting out from under the bed, snarling, Fell’s cries of pain echoing through his skull like some sort of awful feedback loop.

1-S snaps at Gaster’s arm, ignoring the sick wrongness that overtakes him, the chant of ‘Bad, Bad, Bad,” going through his skull, and focuses on doing everything in his power to get the man away from Fell. The pain of the bite breaks Gaster’s focus, his hold on his son’s soul dissipating. Fell drops to the ground, gasping, and 1-S quickly takes a protective stance in front of the boy.

For the first time in 1-S’s memory, Gaster looks confused. He glances between his son and his experiment, before taking a step forward. 1-S growls. Even with his tail tucked between his legs, even with his entire frame trembling in fear, 1-S _growls._ It isn’t surprising when the Doctor seems unfazed.

Fell wraps a hand around 1-S’s spine, “You stupid mutt. Get behind me. Get behind _me.”_

But 1-S isn’t moving. He can see the blood leaking from a scratch on Fell’s eye, can see where new bruises are already beginning to blossom across the teen’s face, and he refuses to back down. He won’t allow Fell to be hurt due to his own failures.

Gaster glares at his son, before making a quick gesture in the air. “Bad,” he says and 1-S’s collar springs to life, spreading fire through 1-S’s bones. The creature howls in pain, but the doctor doesn’t stop the way he normally does. He just stares down at 1-S like the creature is the most disappointing thing he has ever laid eyes on.

“Stop! Dad, stop! You’re going to kill him!” Fell says, crouching over 1-S’s whimpering form. He cradles the creature’s skull in his lap and 1-S is surprised to see that his boy is crying. Fell hasn’t cried in a very long time, not since Gaster injected 1-S with a burning red liquid that almost caused the creature to dust. “He didn’t do anything wrong! He was just doing what I said!”

“Then let this serve as a lesson to you both,” Gaster says and he turns to leave, ready to abandon 1-S to his fate.

Already the creature’s vision was going dark around the edges. He has been close to death before and recognizes its call. It is terrifying, the thought of descending into that dark and never coming out again, but even worse are the tears in his boy’s eyes. He wants to nestle into Fell’s embrace, to cherish these last moments with the teen, but the teen pulls away before he can.

1-S whimpers.

He’s always been afraid to die alone.

 

* * *

 

It’s a shock when 1-S wakes up. He’s on Fell’s bed, which immediately sets him on edge. 1-S is never allowed on furniture, not even when it is just him and Fell, but his boy isn’t angry with him. Instead, when 1-S’s eyelights gutter to life Fell practically crumples in relief, pressing his face against the creature’s cranial ridge.

“Oh, god. I thought he killed you. I thought he really killed you.”  

1-S wags his tail, ignoring the soreness in his bones.

“Can you stand?” Fell asks.

Instead of nod, 1-S struggles to his feet. It hurts, but it’s far from the worse pain 1-S has ever endured. Then Fell scoops 1-S up in his arms and carries him out of the room. It’s cumbersome, with Fell being too small and 1-S being far too big, but 1-S doesn’t protest. His weight in the teen’s arms seems to calm Fell some and for that, 1-S is thankful.

Outside the room, 1-S stiffens. There, propped up beside the door, is Gaster. The monster is out cold, his skull cracked badly in a strange mirror to 1-S’s own scar. The creature whines anxiously at the sight of the fallen doctor and Fell shushes him.

“Don’t think about it,” he says and 1-S obeys.

 

* * *

 

They walk for a long time. After a while Fell sets 1-S on the ground and snaps on his lead. They go further than they ever have before, until they’re all the way on the opposite side of Waterfall, far from civilization. There are echo flowers all around and the cavern is too loud and too quiet all at once, white noise pounding against 1-S's marrow. 

Fell sits down and 1-S presses to his side, trying to offer the teen some comfort.

“You’re my only friend, you know,” Fell says after a long time, staring at his hands like he's afraid they might just belong to someone else. “I couldn’t let him kill my only friend.”

1-S whimpers, licking Fell’s hand. He would’ve been fine with dying if it kept Fell out of trouble.

Fell blinks and a tear rolls down the side of his cheek. He wipes it away, and shakes himself a little. “I have a plan,” he says. “But you have to go, okay? You have to run far, far away so that Dad never finds you again.”

Run? The thought makes 1-S’s soul ache. He shifts, his canine form falling away, and locks wide eyes with Fell. “You too?” he rasps, voice rough from disuse.

"No. Not me. Dad’ll send the guard after me. But he can’t tell anyone about you—not if he wants to king to keep funding his research.”

“Then I’ll stay,” 1-S affirms. He’s not leaving his boy alone with Gaster, after all. 

“No. You go,” Fell pushes him. “Don’t you get it, dumbass? If you come back, he’ll kill you and that’ll kill me. It’ll just kill me, okay? Do you want me to die?”

1-S shakes his head. No. He’s never wanted that.

“Okay, then you have to go.” With that, Fell reaches down and, instead of releasing the lead like 1-S expects, he undoes the entire collar. It falls to the ground, leaving 1-S’s neck feeling cold and clammy. He feels naked without the leather around his neck. Then Fell gives 1-S one last pat on the head before he turns to leave.

1-S makes to follow but the teen shakes his head. “No,” he says. “Stay.”

It occurs to the creature that he very much so does not want to stay.

 

* * *

 

1-S waits for a long time for Fell to return. When a day has passed with no sign of anyone, 1-S shifts into his canine form and curls up in a tight ball and continues to wait. He wants to return home, thinks that he might remember the way, but fights down the urge. He doesn’t want Fell to die, so he can’t return. He’ll just have to wait for the teen to join him.

 

* * *

 

         

It takes a long time for 1-S to move on from his spot in waterfall. Occasionally he ventures out to drink from a nearby pool and try to search for food. He finds that he misses his bowl and at night, he sometimes daydreams about the treats Fell used to feed him. It makes his stomach cramp painfully and still, there’s no food to be found. 1-S tries catching the fish the way he had that day at the lake, but fails again and again.

In the end, though, it isn’t hunger that drives him from Waterfall, it’s the presence of other monsters. S-1 hears them one day while he’s sitting in wait for Fell. He knows immediately that it isn’t his boy coming to get him. S-1 could pick Fell’s footsteps out of a stampede after all.

The creature crouches down, cowering as fear overtakes his soul. His instincts scream at him to run and, in a moment, S-1 is fleeing.

Remembering Fell’s words, S-1 makes sure to run in the opposite direction from which he came and with every step he is aware that he is moving further and further away from the only person who has ever loved him.

Soon the ground turns to snow beneath his feet. S-1 stares at it confused—he didn’t know there was snow in the underground—before shaking himself and moving onward. Soon his nose begins to fill with the smell of monsters and, with that, the scent of food. S-1’s stomach growls at the thought, but he forces himself to skirt around the edge of the town.

Monsters are unpredictable. He knows better than to venture close.

 

* * *

           

Soon hunger forces 1-S into town. He goes in the cover of night, shaking from cold and fear, and finds what food he can. Mostly, this involves digging through trash. The food he finds smells and is a little slimy, but it’s worth it to abate the pain in his gut. It's still better tasting than the food Gaster provided him with, after all. 

Even with the food from the town, 1-S begins to slow. 1-S was built tough, but he was never built to last. The cold, the lack of food, and the constant fear of discovery is getting to him. At least when the doctor left the house, 1-S could be sure he was safe. Out here, anything could be lurking in the shadows.

He tries to remain unseen, and fails. He tries to remain distant, and fails. 

Really, it’s the orange skeleton that breaks him.

* * *

 

The first time 1-S lays eyes on the orange monster, he’s staking out the mysterious food pile that’s appeared near the woods. 1-S knows better than to trust hand-outs, but the scent of food is too tempting to deny completely. That and the fact that more just keeps appearing. So 1-S has decided to wait and watch, the way the Doctor taught him to do when hunting, so that he can discover the person behind this new resource.

And when the orange skeleton appears, 1-S has to stop himself from dashing forwards. He knows it’s not Fell—this new monster is too tall, too old, and his scent is all off—but he looks just familiar enough for 1-S’s heart to break anew.

1-S watches as the monster examines the food before adding more to the pile. The skeleton doesn’t tamper with the food, doesn’t lay down a trap. He just sets it then leaves.

It reminds him a bit of the early days with Fell, back when 1-S was too distrustful of the boy to draw near. Fell used to bring 1-S all sorts of table scraps, trying to bribe him into friendship, and eventually it had worked.

As the creature tucks into his meal, 1-S finds himself wondering if this skeleton is as lonely as Fell.

 

* * *

 

 

After that, 1-S learns the skeleton’s routine. He learns that the monster likes to spend the mornings sitting out by the ruins doing nothing. During this time, he sometimes smokes and sometimes pulls a silver flask out of his pocket, taking long gulps from the thing. Once, the skeleton brings a book out to his seat in the woods, but ends up falling asleep after a few hours.

Immediately after the skeleton falls asleep, 1-S is on high alert, the creature letting out a small whimper. Didn’t this skeleton know he shouldn’t sleep out in the open? Even if there aren’t any apparent dangers, that still doesn’t mean things are safe. S-1 himself is a prime example of that fact.

The creature finds himself scouting the area without meaning to, the way he used to when Fell was a kid, back when S-1 felt the need to make sure every corner of the house was safe and secure. He breaks out of the habit mid-stride and returns to the woods. He’ll keep watch from the woods and then, when the skeleton stops by the food spot and leaves 1-S’s meal, 1-S will curl up in the nest the monster has given him and sleep.

Then he will forget all about the fact that this orange monster is obviously too stupid to protect himself—that the skeleton is likely going to be killed before long.

The next morning, though, 1-S is back to stalking the skeleton through the woods, making sure the monster is safe. It begins to become a sort of routine so that, even when 1-S’s feet are shaking and when his chest begins to feel wet and his breathing heavy, the creature still manages to push himself to his feet and follow the skeleton to work.

 

* * *

           

The night that the skeleton monster appears by 1-S’s nest is a strange one. The monster is obviously drunk, swaying ever so slightly, his words slurring. The smell of whisky clogs 1-S’s nose and he wonders what pain is so great that the orange monster has to drink himself silly to get over it.

Then the skeleton makes to approach and fear seizes S-1’s chest. He thinks of the doctor, of the needles and the fights and the times when Gaster would force 1-S to hunt and kill, he thinks that maybe there are things worse than the doctor, that just because this orange monster is stupid and needs protecting, that doesn’t mean he’s kind. The thought spurs 1-S into action and soon he’s snarling and rattling, giving a threat display that might even phase Gaster.

To his surprise, the skeleton backs off. It occurs to 1-S that not even Fell backs off when he growls. Mostly the teen just smacks S-1 on the nose and calls him ‘bad.’

The orange skeleton eventually falls asleep on the ground and 1-S finds he doesn’t understand anything about this monster. It’s nighttime. The monster shouldn’t be outside, where it is cold and dangerous. He should be in a bed with walls and blankets and locked doors.

Whining, 1-S ventures out of his nest, ready to leap away should the skeleton try and grab him. He sniffs the monster’s shoe, jumps back, and waits for a reaction. When the skeleton gives none, 1-S comes close enough to give the skeleton a thorough inspection.

The monster is definitely older than Fell, but not by as much as 1-S originally assumed. His features are still soft. They’re also completely unmarred. 1-S thinks of the ugly scratch across Fell’s eye and whimpers, wondering what bruises Gaster might have given the teen once 1-S was gone.

The thought is sickening.

Then 1-S glances at the prone skeleton, obviously lonely and hurting, and moves to the edge of the clearing to keep watch. He stays up all night, biting his tail whenever he feels himself drifting off, and in the morning, when the skeleton wakes up and leaves, 1-S curls up in his nest and feels just a little less homesick. The night without rest hasn’t helped him none and there’s an unnatural heat in his bones--a nausea in the pit of his nonexistent stomach--but even then, 1-S feels better than he has since leaving his boy.

 

* * *

 

The draw to the orange monster is too much after that, the need to protect warring with S-1’s fear, creating an uncomfortable press of emotions in the back of the creature’s skull. 1-S is too weak to fight either of the urges and ends up caught between the two instincts, sitting just within sight of the orange monster while trembling with fear. He eats the kibble the skeleton gives him and doesn’t even begrudge the monster when the food makes 1-S sick, causing the creature to hack up bile.

But when the Skeleton threatens to return 1-S to Gaster, the creature freezes. 1-S can’t return, not if he wants to protect Fell. So when the skeleton moves closer, 1-S growls and then, when that doesn’t work, he does the only other thing he knows how: he runs.

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t return to the nest after that and doesn’t return to the food pile. It's not as hard as it should be; 1-S isn’t very hungry anymore and whenever he does manage to eat, it makes him sick. Instead of hunt for food or seek out the skeleton, 1-S spends his days huddled beneath the roots of a tree, struggling for breath.

One night, when 1-S is hunting through trash for food, he hears the sound of a monster approaching and, before he can run, is hit with a wave of vertigo. His vision dances, so that, instead of one bird monster, there are three, and all of them are screaming at 1-S to “Get out! Out! Out!” and 1-S desperately wants to obey the commands, but he can’t seem to make his feet move. He growls and snaps, trying to get the bird monster to go away, but to no avail.

Eventually the bird monster grabs the lid of the trash can and hurdles it at the creature. 1-S scrambles away, a searing pain tearing through his right humerus, and somehow manages to make it to the tree line before collapsing, his breath coming in painful gasps. The wound on his leg is bleeding, the bone fractured down the middle, and it takes a long moment for 1-S to even want to chance standing.

He tries to put weight on the limb and immediately regrets it. His vision blacks around the edges and 1-S is overcome with a nausea so severe, he knows he would have thrown up if he’d had magic to spare on such things. He pulls the leg off the ground, tucking it close to his chest, and limps onward.

 

In that moment, 1-S finds that he would give anything to curl up on his dog-bed to watch shitty movies with Fell.

 

**Author's Note:**

> And as always, if you want constant updates on how fics are coming along and stuff or if you just want to buff my ego, you can always follow me on tumblr at [unicornpunk-mifrunner.tumblr.com](https://unicornpunk-mifrunner.tumblr.com) or on twitter at [Mif_Runner](https://twitter.com/MiF_Runner)


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